


Not gold and silver, but a treasure anyways

by ThatOneGirlBehindYou



Series: You better start believing in pirate AU´s, Mr Stark [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Background Character Death, FrostIron - Freeform, Gen, M/M, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 01:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1586084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatOneGirlBehindYou/pseuds/ThatOneGirlBehindYou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had happened during one of his own balls, his manor had been polished to a inch of its life, and people he didn´t really know past name and a few juicy gossips glided across the dancefloor accompanied by the muffled whispers of silk dresses against wooden floors.</p><p>They were an easy target for the pirates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not gold and silver, but a treasure anyways

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Batwynn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batwynn/gifts).



> Excuse all my stupid references to Pirates of the Caribbean  
> Inspired on this pic by Batwynn (http://batwynn.tumblr.com/post/80950307079/avast-ye-anon-okay-ill-stop-now-heheh), it was mostly a random idea that spiralled out of control.  
> I wanted to finish it in time for her birthday, but well, you know how it goes.  
> Anyways, I hope you´ll enjoy it!

Anthony Stark (Tony, unless you were making him sign an official document) wasn´t an easily overwhelmed man.

He´d been in tedious estate meetings turned into battlefields and in terribly elegant ballrooms that became brothels when all the candles had grown dim. He´d been in actual battle, seen a man broken in half by an iron ball as big as his head, and another bleed his life out from a slash across his side. Nothing could faze him.  
Or so he thought, until the attack.

It had happened during one of his own balls, his manor had been polished to a inch of its life, and people he didn´t really know past name and a few juicy gossips glided across the dancefloor accompanied by the muffled whispers of silk dresses against wooden floors.

They were an easy target for the pirates.

No one saw the ship that stopped barely a few feet away from the entrance of the bay, or the small boats that crept all the way to the bottom of steep cliff on which the manor had been built, and no one noticed the hooks that latched themselves to rocks and trees, or the dark shadows that crawled over them.

In fact, the music was so loud inside the great hall that it covered the sound of the first crystal being smashed to pieces, and they only noticed they were under attack, when a scream was cut short into a gasp, and all stares honed in on the darkened corner in which two men held a third one between them, and let him crumble to the ground though unconscious or something worse no one could say.

Someone screamed. Tony let go of his dancing partner (a charming young maid with hair like honey and skin like almonds), and clutched at his side. There was no sword there, obviously. Why would he carry a sword around in a ball at his own house? 

However he had no time to resent his own stupidity, for there was a hand on his forearm and Jarvis grunted a low "Sir, come with me." before dragging him away.

"Where are the guards?!" He asked as silently as he could as they raced through corridors and rooms.

"Drunk or drugged, Sir, I couldn´t tell, but I believe they live still." Jarvis opened a side door with a key from his belt, a linens closet. "You´ll be safe here, Sir, the City Guards are already on their way-" Jarvis froze, and Tony froze too. 

The slight blade shone against the moonlight, pressed against the butler´s neck.

"Good night, gentlemen." The man holding the knife looked feral, for a lack of a better word. His golden eyes were tainted with a spark of amusement, as if he found all this to be little more than a joke, and he smiled wide and white, save for the unnatural gleam of two sharp gold canines. "My Captain wishes to have a word with you."

"Well, you see lad, we´re a tad busy at the moment." Tony frowned, and spoke calmly to avoid upsetting the pirate that held the life of his most trusted man in his hands.

"Ah, but Mister Stark, my Captain wishes to speak to you alone." He smiled again, and this time it looked more like a smirk. "I will be glad to dismiss this one for you." His grip tightened around the handle of the knife, and Tony tensed and lurched forward-

"Fenrir!" A sharp, firm scream broke the tension, and the man -Fenrir, apparently- rolled his eyes.

"What?" He asked, more annoyed than angry.  
Tony watched in amazement as a young black haired woman came out of the shadows. She wore pieces of mixed armors, some red, some silver, over the rough cloth and leathers of pirate attire, and she´d been dragging along a gagged and _very_ angry Pepper.

"Your father will not be pleased. Our orders were to spare as many lives as possible."

"Ah, he never allows us any fun. Do you not feel the call of blood, Sif?" He asked, flashing her a tempting smile. The woman shook her head.

"You know I do, and your father does too, just as we all, but your grandfather still sits on the throne and until that is no more we must follow his orders. No killing this time."

"Then help me tie the old man." Fenrir said dismissively, and pulled a cutlass from his belt. The tip landed heavily on Tony´s chest, directly under his Pendant, and the man´s golden eyes fixed on his. "Don´t move."

And so, unarmed and at swordpoint, Tony could only watch as Sif retrieved one of his sheets and shred it to strips to use them as makeshift rope to bind Jarvis´ and Pepper´s hands together, and then to the staircase railing. Only after she´d gagged Jarvis did she come back to them.

"Come, Sleipnir waits for us at the shore." She told Fenrir as she tied the last strip of white linen around Tony´s own wrists and fastened it into a firm knot.

\--

"I trust you had a nice trip?" The man that pulled him over the ship´s railing asked. His eyes were also golden, but colder and more cunning than those of Fenrir, who climbed up after him along with Sif and the one she´d called Sleipnir, a man whose height and broad arms and shoulders contrasted sharply against the gentle lines of his face and the gold rims on his fingernails, and that had rowed them across the bay in less time than Tony would´ve believed possible.

"Are you the father this loon was talking about? Because I must tell you, your kid could use a lesson in manners or two." Tony snapped back. The rough-looking men and women around him let low murmurs of surprise, and both Fenrir and Sleipnir guffawed.

"No, Mister Stark. Although I agree wholeheartedly with you that my younger brother could use a week or two scrubbing floors clean, I am not in position to speak freely of it." The other answered, leveling a reproaching glare at the laughing men. "I am Jôrmungandr, and I see for this ship when her Captain is away on more urgent business. Now, however, he´s available for you, if you´d be nice enough to follow."

And just like that, he turned his back on him and walked away, his balance perfect in the increasing swinging of the ship.

Someone shoves him hard on the back, and he turns around to face Fenrir. "Move, my father doesn´t like to be kept waiting." 

"So that´s where you got your manners from."

-

And that´s how Tony Stark, blacksmith´s son, weapons merchant, shameless hedonist, currently finds himself sitting on a well stuffed chair and staring at the figure across the sturdy oak table.

The much mentioned captain is tall, thin and willowy, with skin like ivory and hair like a raven´s feathers and eyes like the emeralds his mother was so fond of wearing, and in the depths of his mind a small voice (the one that´s usually to blame for most of his escapades) whispers that he could probably over power him, and that swimming to the shore unseen wouldn´t be that hard at all.

Thankfully, the less reckless part of him makes him take notice of the fact that there is not a single guard in the room with them, that the man´s sons didn´t even take the time to tie him down to the chair before leaving, and that the delicate (beautiful, really, like a newly made sword) man before him hasn´t so much as moved a finger, and is only watching him with an unnerving smile that reminds him of the time he found a rattlesnake under a rock as a child.

"Let me guess... There´s no use in me trying to take you down in battle?" He ventures. The man´s smile widens.

"I fear so. I´ve grown used to fighting men twice my size, I don´t think one barely half would prove much problem."

"You´d be surprised." Tony grunts, slightly offended.

"Oh, I do not doubt it, Mister Stark." The man leans forward and climbs to his feet and well, Tony had anticipated he´d be tall, but this surpasses his expectations. "Forgive me, though, I´ve been a terrible host." He walks around the table, until he´s standing right next to him, and Tony stands up on reflex. "I´ve been called Silvertongue, Trickster and Deceiver. I am son to Odin Allseeing, King of the Pirates, and Frigga Longknives, who disregards her title of Queen and keeps on terrorizing the West by herself. I am brother to Thor Stormhammer, and I am the Captain of the ship that has sunk more than any other. " A long-fingered hand is offered to him. "My name is Loki Liesmith, Mister Stark. Welcome on board the Tesseract."

Tony stares down at the hand for a few seconds, and back up to its owner, whose eyes have sharpened in suspicion. He takes the hand in one of his own and shakes it slightly before letting go.

"I´m charmed. Really. Lovely ship. Your sons as well. May I return to my party now? I was getting into quite the mood back there." He shoots, and Loki´s smile is back, even if it´s more of a smirk this time around.

"But Mister Stark... Do you truly wish to retire before we´ve had the time to speak business?" Four long steps take the captain back to his chair.

Tony evaluates the whole room with a quick sweep of his eyes, and opts to sit back down after he finds exactly zero potential escape routes that don´t involve having to wrestle Loki.

"Excuse me, but I´m not sure I should be so eager to do business with the Trickster and the Deceiver."

"And the Liesmith." Supplies Loki, helpfully. "I would add Silvertongue too, but I must admit I earned that one in a slightly different manner, in case you were wondering"

"Scandalous." Tony answers dryly and rolls his eyes. He has no time to be propositioned by a pirate, if that is in fact what´s happening. "Tell me of this business of yours, so that I can refuse you and return to land."

"Pressuring me is not a wise movement, Mister Stark." The man has a dagger in his hands now, and runs a finger along the length of the blade in an almost distracted manner. "However, I too have much better places to be tonight than wasting breath and words with you, so..."

"So?"

"So, I was under the impression that you were smarter than average. What do you think I would want with you?" Loki rolls his eyes.

"Well, I know what _I_ would want with you, given that we had met in different circumstances, but I hardly think your King of the Pirates sent his boy away with orders to bed me, no matter how flattering that would be." Tony pulls out his best smirk as he delivers his words. If they´re talking business then he´s in his element now, and making the other person uncomfortable is always a good method to assert yourself, he´s learned.

Loki´s green eyes drill his face for five intense seconds, before the man in question breaks out laughing.

"Your insolence is... Refreshing." He says when he´s left breathless. 

"Glad to be of use, Captain." Tony tips his head in a mock salute.

"Still, be careful. Most of the times I don´t even let my own lovers get away with insulting me, so be thankful I´m not nailing your tongue to the wall right now." The pirate shakes his head and leans forward again. "No, Mister Stark, unfortunately I was not sent here to bed anyone, as satisfying as that would´ve been." His eyes harden again, but they are left with a sparkle of amusement, and Tony feels once more like he´s in the presence of a snake waiting to strike. "I came here to talk weapons."

"I´m sorry?"

"We have noticed the Crown has tightened the leash they have on you and your trade routes." He rolls his eyes, apparently disappointed. "I figure your business has suffered pretty big losses, having been forbidden to sell past the borders?"

"I don´t see how my income is of your interest, pirate." Tony spits the last word out derisively.

"Oh, it is. We pirates are but merchants, after all." Loki smirks again, and his eyes gleam with barely concealed humor. "Smarter, more determined merchants, but merchants after all... And we now a business when we see it."

"You know I´m going to say no, righ-"

"As I was saying." Loki interrupts him, and drives the dagger into the table´s surface with a dry thud. "We offer you a solution."

"N-"

"We sail and sell your merchandise across every border you can think of, and bring you, say... Eighty percent of our earnings?" He finishes with a charming smile.

"I... Eighty percent?" Tony stammers out. "That´s much more than what I would offer for such service, and I don´t go around cutting throats for pocket coin."

"We don´t, either, Mister Stark. We plan big, and we succeed." Loki leans back on his chair and leaves the dagger between them. An open invitation. A pending threat. "We ask for one more thing, though."

"Naturally." Tony fights back the urge to roll his eyes. Pirates.

"A sample of the merchandise itself wouldn´t hurt in the least, don´t you think?" The man joins his hands in front of his chest and intertwines his fingers. "This is the deal. You supply our crew with quality weapons, and in turn we sell your... Excess product for you. We stay out of your way, and you can go back to hosting five balls a month instead of a shameful three."

Tony mimics his host, lies back on his chair and pretends he´s not thinking over it.

His chambers had waned noticeably ever since he´d gotten the signed notice that he was to refrain from selling his weaponry to "not approved" clients, lest he be considered a traitor to his country. With all that gold back he´d be able to re-hire all those servants he´d had to let go, and of course, indulge a bit himself. He was the mind behind it all, wasn´t he? 

Still... Associating with pirates...

"Did I mention the deal also includes preserving the life of every person currently in your mansion?"

Oh, well...

\--

It all goes downhill from there.

At first it´s easy to ignore, he looks through the carriage window and there´s the silhouette of a ship sailing away in the distance, and when he gets home the weapon crates are gone from his storage house, and there´s a chest of gold in their place, always topped with a sheet of parchment signed with an elaborate L.

\--

Then three months later, like clockwork, the money´s come, the crates are gone... Along with all the contents of his pantry.

"Jarvis?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Could you explain, please?"

"They told the cook you had given them free pass to our reserves." The butler shrugs, uninterested. Tony grits his teeth.

"And she believed them?"

The cook herself glares up from where she´s slicing up the most meager-looking vegetables he´s ever seen for what´s probably going to be the world´s worst soup.

"They had guns, _sir_ "

Tony groans and asks Jarvis to arrange for everything to be bought again.

Double.

And to keep one of the lots hidden in the basement.

\--

"Sir?"

"Yes?" Tony looks up from his papers and finds a pale and trembling steward waiting by the door.

"The... The pirates, sir, they-they´re here." The poor man stutters, and Tony lifts a hand to calm him down. The fact that a random servant is dealing with the crew today is a sight that either Jarvis is very busy or just very not in the mood to do it himself.

"Are they a huge man and a smaller one with gold fangs?" He asks, feeling the beginnings of a headache blooming behind his eyes. The man nods. "Take them to the storage house, prepare the food, and tell them I said I don´t want a single scratch in my floors this time, or I´m having a word with their father."

The man pales even more, and nods frantically, before retiring on what he probably thinks of as a suicide errand.

"You´re going to have a word with me anyways, so your threat is mostly useless now." And _that_ voice he knows pretty well, despite having heard it for the last time five or so months ago.

He looks up to find Loki leaning on the threshold, draped in his loose-fitting fabrics and sporting his offensively distracting grin.

"Not if it keeps your devilspawn under control." He nods towards the chair across from his desk.

"I don´t recall giving you permission to threaten my sons." Loki takes the offered seat and gives him a curious stare, one sharp, black eyebrow raised.

"You didn´t see my floor the last time. The scratches took three weeks to come out." He shrugs, and finishes checking and signing his last paper before focusing on the other man. "Can you tell me they don´t deserve it?"

"I may be the Liesmith, Stark, but that is still out of my league." He smiles.

And Tony finds himself smiling back. "What do you want?"

"More weapons."

"What for?" Tony asks immediately, narrowing his eyes even as Loki rolls his.

"The demand is too high. We need at least twice the amount of what you give us now."

Tony nods. "It will be available from next month on." He´ll need to hire more blacksmiths, but he has the money for it and there´s always people looking for a job.

"Good." And with this the Captain pushes off his chair and heads for the door.

"Can I tempt you with a drink before you leave?" Comes out of his mouth before Tony can stop it. Loki turns around and arches that stupid eyebrow again.

"You can, but why would you?" Loki takes a few steps back towards him, and keeps his eyes fixed on his hands as he pours the two glasses.

"Maybe I just want to be a better host than you." Tony smirks, and hands him a glass.

Loki keeps staring at him, and he rolls his eyes and takes a hearty sip of his own glass.

Then he finds the rim of Loki´s being pressed to his lips.

"Really?" He asks, amused, but the pirate looks determined, even taking the slight gleam in his eyes into account. "Fine, then." He gives in, tipping his head to let the liquid into his mouth. "See? Perfectly fine." He teases.

"Just a precaution." Loki smirks after half a minute, and takes a sip of his own.

"Poisoning a guest is often considered rude." Tony points out.

"So is kidnapping them into your ship, maybe that´s just how we work." Loki downs his beverage and sits the glass down on the table. "Until next month, Stark."

-

"You know what I´m curious about?" Tony asks. His dart flies steadily but too weakly, and it bounces harmlessly off the target on the wall.

"Far too many things, if you ask me." Loki´s voice is a bit slurred, but his knife stabs the wood with enough strength to stay. Of course, it´s not even remotely close to the target´s rings, but beggars can´t be pickers, can they?

"One thing in particular, though." The shorter man rolls his eyes as he reaches to try and unplug the knife from his wall. Loki makes a raunchy suggestion about a bed and ropes, and he laughs heartily. "I have wondered, but no, I´m not talking about that. Besides, I can´t make knots."

"I can." Comes a slurred, somewhat proud remark from behind him. Tony turns to aim him a look over his shoulder.

"Is that an offering, Loki?" A second knife flies an inch from his face and embeds itself in the wall. Tony lifts his hands in a surrendering gesture. "Fine, then. No, I meant... We haven´t had any pirate attacks in eight months." He frowns. "This is a wealthy town, we used to get them at least once a month."

"Well, this is my territory now." Loki slurs out, smiling lazily, and Tony wonders how in the world did he manage to build up more alcohol resistance than a God damned pirate. "Not many would dare to cross me, or my family. My Hel eliminates most trouble before it brews, and I´m always on the look for any that might have escaped her. We´ve sunk three ships coming this way already..."

"Hel? Is that the woman that stopped Fenrir from gutting Jarvis?" Tony frowns. "No, that one was Sif... Which one is the missus?" He asks casually, and forces only mild curiosity to show in his face.

"None, thankfully... Hel is my daughter, and Sif is my brother´s Consort." He sneers. "She was just sent into my crew for that particular assault, to ensure we stuck to the rules my Father imposed."

"She must be a tough one, then."

"She is. My brother has good taste."

"And you?"

"I wouldn´t know." Loki shrugs, but it looks paind. "I never get too long with my women... Sleipnir´s mother died of birth, and Angrboda was killed shortly after Fenrir was born."

"My condolences." Tony pushes through a dry throat.

The pirate´s green eyes meet his own. "They live in their children. We will meet again in the end."

"Do you think they watch you as we speak?"

At this, Loki´s thin lips curl into a shameful smile. "Oh, they do. And I´m sure they´re mocking me."

\- 

At some point past the ten month mark, he stops getting surprised when he walks into his studio to find Loki sitting behind his desk, and only bothers to pour two glasses of whiskey and tasting them both before handing him one.

Then he sits, and talks calmly to the man for hours on end, as his sons raid his storage house and his pantry.

-

A year goes by, and Tony throws another party, because he´s hilarious like that.

The pirates, being pirates and thus disappointingly predictable, break in again.

This time, though, most of the guests remain calm in the presence of "Mad Mister Stark´s pirates", and those who don´t... Well, the party´s much more fun without them.  
Fenrir loses a drinking contest against Pepper, Jarvis forces Sleipnir to sit down and have a haircut, much to Jôrmungandr´s amusement, and he has strong reasons to believe at least three pregnancies were cemented that night.

Or at least he saw as much before he was dragged around by his arm and spent the rest of the night spinning on the dancefloor looking up into a pair of green sparkling eyes.

-

Tony hates to admit it now, but there´s no excuse. Things grew so beautifully peaceful that he let his guard down.

The attack comes while he´s at a meeting with his associates, discussing on the increment in the price of gunpowder, when a young messenger barges into the room and runs straight for him.

"Mister Stark, sir, there are pirates in your house!" She stutters out, breathless after the run.

Tony rolls his eyes. "There are _always_ pirates in my house."

"No, sir, other pirates!" She shakes his shoulder, manners forgotten in her urgency. "They´re _attacking_ your house!"

Loki´s crew is already there when his carriage rolls to a stop in front of the gates, and by the time the City Guards step into his property they have already rounded up the attackers (or at least the still living ones) and are escorting Tony´s personnel out of the burning, crumbling shell of a house. It´s like watching a nightmare, the fire and the screams, and the crew dragging out the injured and the dead.

He spots a familiar silhouette, and redirects his steps.

"You came a bit late." Jôrmungandr mutters when he sees him. He´s watching the house with a pained expression, like it´s his own home burning down, which Tony figures it kind of is, considering how much time he and his brothers and crewmates have spent in there this last two years.

"Where´s your Father?" He asks.

The man´s eyes grow dark and worried. "He´s not out yet?" He answers, and then has to focus on holding the much smaller (but very determined) man trying to make a break for the house just as the main doors crumble in on themselves.

Just as Jôr´s arms tense around him and he hears a breathless "Father..." coming from somewhere over his head, the sound of a crystal breaking directs his attention to the side of the house.

Pepper drags herself through the splintered window, followed by a bloody , pale mess of a man.

He has no idea when exactly Jôr let him go, but he´s never run as fast as he does right then.

-

Tony paces through the remnants of his mansion, coughing occasionally at the smoke drifting upwards in twisting spirals.

"I thought you said nothing slipped past you." He mutters, but doesn´t even mean for it to come out harsh or accusing. Honestly, he should´ve expected this.

A hand makes as if to land on his shoulder, but only barely grazes it.

"How is your butler?" Loki´s voice that is usually so firm and shameless sounds almost... Sorry.

"Jarvis? Only a couple burns. He was just opening the door when the attack started, he had time to get away." He sighs. Jarvis is strong as a man half his age, but he´d still have liked that he didn´t have to suffer the injuries. "Six people died, though."

"I lost fifteen." Loki mirrors his sigh. "This was-"

"An accident, I know." Tony looks at him by the corner of his eye, and he looks as deflated as he sounds. "If you had wanted to betray me then killing your own crew would´ve been a bit too extreme, even for you."

"I wouldn´t..."

"Really?" For the first time since the sun came down and he was notified of the ship that had burned his home down, he smiles, as he turns to fully face the taller man standing by his side. "Pirate." He accuses, and it sounds like a compliment even to his ears.

It´s slow and tentative, but Loki smirks back at him.

"May I offer you a place to sleep tonight, Anthony?"

**Author's Note:**

> Now, can this be read as a stand-alone? Yes  
> Will there be any more parts to this series? Probably yes as well, because it seems I´m physically unable to leave AU´s die with dignity.


End file.
